by Diane Noble
Kate sighed. She understood both sides, but truth be told, traditional hymns filled her soul like no other music could. Give her “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” or “Love Divine” any day. Yet she also knew that young people were drawn to a more contemporary sound, and she and Paul wanted deeply to attract the younger generation to Faith Briar.
“Has Renee ever heard contemporary Christian music?”
“That’s exactly what Sam asked. She hasn’t, and neither have most of the others, although I’m not sure things would have worked in our favor even if they had.” Paul got up, opened the fire screen, and stoked the fire. Sparks flew, then settled and sizzled as he sat down again. “So I suggested we try it for a few weeks and just see how it goes.”
“Did they agree?”
“Reluctantly. But Renee said not to be surprised if the church splits over it.”
“That’s a little premature, isn’t it?”
“You know Renee.”
Kate let out a light chuckle. “That I do.”
“Danny told the board he knows some kids from the high school who have put a group together—an acoustic guitarist, a keyboard player and vocalist, and a drummer—and they’re trying to book events. He said they played for one of the school’s assemblies recently, and they’re very good. The kids in the bleachers were on their feet clapping and cheering after they performed.” He paused. “Plus, he told me on our way home that these kids could use some guidance. One is from a broken home, and both of the boys in the group have had run-ins with the law.”
“Run-ins with the law?” She lifted a brow. “Oh dear. Are these church kids?”
“As in, did they grow up in a church family?” He shook his head. “No.” He gazed at the fire a moment, then added, “I think it could be a powerful ministry tool, showing Christ’s love to them even as they help us build up our youth attendance.”
Kate agreed, but she was still mulling over what he’d said about those run-ins with the law. That could be a problem with some of the dear folks at Faith Briar. “Serious or mischievous run-ins?”
“One of the boys was picked up for breaking and entering, but that was a while ago. Danny wasn’t sure what happened, but the boy was never charged with the crime. Another boy was caught blowing up mailboxes with small explosives.”
“My goodness! Small explosives?”
“It sounds worse than it was. He used firecrackers from Mexico that someone gave him. They’re called cherry bombs.”
Kate drew in a deep breath. “Goodness,” she said again. She could only imagine what some of the church members would say when they got wind of this. “What did the board decide?”
“It was a split down the middle when we voted—three for the trial run, three against it.” He sighed wearily. “I cast the deciding vote in favor of giving the kids a chance. Danny’s going to pick out some music for them and let them do one song this Sunday.”
“This Sunday? Talk about fireworks.”
He lifted a brow. “You know me. Once a decision is made, I like to move forward.” He let out another sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “I just hope and pray our people will give these kids a chance.”
Kate set her now-empty mug on the lamp table beside the couch, went over to where Paul was sitting, and put her arms around his shoulders. She knew he was recalling his teen years, when someone gave him a chance, heard his untrained but beautiful tenor voice and asked him to sing a solo during the morning service. Until that moment, Paul had been somewhat ambivalent toward God. It was Nehemiah Jacobs, the pastor of his hometown church, and later of Faith Briar, who took Paul under his wing. The same caring pastor later became Paul’s college mentor when he felt the call to go into ministry.
It all began with a song, and with someone who wasn’t afraid to take a chance on a teenager.
“We will pray,” Kate said.
Paul rose and took Kate in his arms. “Yes, when it comes down to it, Katie, it’s a matter of prayer.” He reached over to flip off the light, then with their arms around each other, they walked to their bedroom.
“For us all,” she said. “For hearts to be opened to God’s blessings, no matter the form they take...”
He nodded. “Or how foreign they may seem.”
“And for the kids—that they’ll feel accepted...”
“And cared for,” he finished.
“I love it when that happens,” Kate said as she pulled back the quilt on their bed.
“What?”
She tossed a throw pillow to him. “That after almost thirty years of marriage we know each other’s thoughts so well...”
“We finish each other’s sentences.” He laughed and tossed the pillow back.
It wasn’t until Paul was snoring softly beside her and Kate had finished her prayers that her thoughts went back to the nagging unanswered question that had been nipping at the edges of her mind all evening.
Who had broken into their home and left the strange envelope in her studio?
She shivered and prayed for God’s peace. For the beloved congregation at Faith Briar, for the young people who would bring them their new music. For Livvy and her heartache over the library break-in.
For them all.
As she began to drift off she couldn’t help thinking she was once again falling headlong into a curious and possibly dangerous mystery. As sleep pulled her into its fuzzy, velvet-dark arms, she smiled.
Truth be told, she liked nothing better.
Chapter Five
Kate rose before six to snuggle by the fire and take her concerns and plans for the day to God in prayer. Her heart was especially heavy as she thought about the news Livvy had to deliver to Caroline and Renee that morning.
She sat in her rocker for a while, studying the flames, going over the library theft in her mind, and formulating a plan for beginning her own investigation. This called for cookie baking.
She hurried to the kitchen to stir up a double batch of her new oatmeal-cookie recipe. Besides, she’d promised Livvy she would help provide refreshments for the tea that would follow the exhibit kickoff ceremony. Abby Pippins had volunteered to bake several dozen seven-layer cookies, and LuAnne Matthews, waitress at the Country Diner, said she planned to stir up at least three batches of her grandmother’s secret recipe for iced-chocolate brownies with marshmallow cream and walnuts. Loretta Sweet, owner of the diner, said she would furnish the iced tea, lemonade and coffee.
At the thought of Loretta’s coffee, Kate smiled. The word around town was that the coffee served at the diner had gone down hill. She’d heard, in passing, at least three people say they were going to bring it up to Loretta, but after she volunteered to provide the drinks for the kickoff ceremony, no one had the heart to complain. Not even Joe Tucker, who said Loretta’s coffee tasted like his damp hunting socks smelled after he’d been tramping through the woods during deer season.
AT 9:30, KATE WAS FINISHED BAKING and had done a good bit of scheming on who, what, and why. She had a good handle on the what, but who and why still whirled through her mind.
She found Paul in his study and kissed him good-bye for the day, then she headed to the library to meet Livvy, Loretta, LuAnne, and Abby to set up and decorate the refreshment tables.
The first car she spotted in the library parking lot was Renee Lambert’s pink Oldsmobile, or as Kate affectionately called it, the pink refrigerator on wheels.
She shot a quick prayer heavenward. Livvy’s encounter with Renee and her mother that morning was bound to be emotional, probably bordering on explosive, knowing Renee. Renee wouldn’t take the news of the theft well. Neither would Caroline. The older woman would be devastated. Kate just hoped the sparks wouldn’t fly in Livvy’s direction. Her friend was upset enough over the break-in without anyone adding to her feelings of guilt.
She walked across the parking lot toward the library entrance, but before she had even reached the top of the steps, the double-glass doors burst open, and Renee huffed through, he
r mother in tow. Slightly behind them was a white-faced Livvy. A yipping, jumping Kisses, Renee’s pet Chihuahua, made up the quartet.
“Did you hear?” Renee demanded, tears in her eyes. “Did you hear what’s happened to my great-grandfather’s things?”
Kate nodded, her gaze drifting to Caroline’s face. The older woman’s normally proud shoulders were stooped, and her expression was so distraught, Kate felt tears spring to her own eyes. She reached for Caroline’s white-gloved hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
The proud woman huffed quietly but didn’t speak.
“I went by this morning,” Livvy explained to Kate, “to let them know what happened, but they weren’t home.”
“Mama and I decided to treat ourselves to breakfast at the diner,” Renee filled in. At her feet Kisses sniffed the ground, looking for a fire-hydrant substitute. “Sustenance, you know, for the day ahead. Mama needs a good breakfast when she’s getting ready to talk about her granddaddy J. P. Beauregard.” As she spoke her great-grandfather’s name, she began to tear up.
She reached into her gold-lamé handbag for a tissue, then dabbed her watery eyes. “We’re shocked and angry over what’s happened.”
Caroline’s chin quivered, and blinking rapidly, she looked away from her daughter as if her grief over the robbery was simply too much to bear. Kate’s heart went out to the frail little lady who was known for her fiery, feisty spirit. A spirit that was definitely missing that morning. Kate told herself again she wouldn’t rest until she found out who was behind this outrageous crime—and saw to it that the items were returned.
Dressed in pastels that morning, Caroline was the portrait of a genteel Southern belle. She wore a straw hat tilted at a jaunty angle, its brim as wide as her shoulders. It was covered with a froth of silk flowers that matched her floral-print jersey dress. The twin handles of her white vinyl handbag looped over her forearm, and a single strand of pearls graced her neck.
Livvy stepped closer to Renee and whispered, “Do you think your mother is still up to saying a few words of welcome?”
Caroline opened her foldable jeweled cane with a snap, then trotted over to where the two stood, the petals on the blossom froth bouncing with each step. She jabbed the cane into the air to punctuate her words as she spoke.
“Maybe I should remind you that my hearing is perfectly fine, thank you. So is my ability to speak for myself.” She gave Livvy a pointed look.
Kate stifled a smile. It seemed the fiery, feisty spirit was still intact after all.
“Of course,” Livvy said, smiling gently.
Caroline put her shoulders back and straightened her spine, leaning on her cane. “If we Southern women are anything, we’re tough. I dare say, tougher than bits on a diamond drill. It would take more than this to send me skittering from my appointed duty, sad as it is for my family. And mind you, we won’t soon be forgetting what’s happened! After all, I am my granddaddy J. P. Beauregard’s granddaughter.” She lifted her chin in the air and pursed her bright-pink rouged lips. Her eyes filled with tears, and Renee handed her a tissue.
“So, to answer your question”—she stopped to sniff and daintily dab at the corners of her eyes—“I will honor the memory of my granddaddy, the most magnificent officer in the Confederate army, by overcoming this terrible thing that’s happened. I will tell his story to the folks of Copper Mill.” She put a gloved hand to her heart. “For we must never forget the sacrifice of J. P. Beauregard and others like him. We must never forget their valor and—”
“Mother,” Renee broke in, “you must save your energy and your speech for later.”
Caroline fluttered her fingers. “Yes, yes, of course, dear. I forgot myself there for a minute. I do get carried away when I speak of this great man.”
“Thank you for being so willing,” Livvy said. “We’ll continue our program, just as we’d planned. You’ll be seated on the dais with Renee—”
“Only if that little runt isn’t up there with us.” Caroline glared at Kisses, who was sitting at her feet gazing up at her with doleful eyes.
This time Renee harrumphed. “What are you talking about, Mama? I thought you’d made your peace with him.”
“Until last night. He got right under my feet on my way to the powder room, and I nearly fell on top of him. I broke my hip once, and I don’t intend to do it again. I’ve half a mind to insist you give him to Mrs. Hanlon, and I don’t mean just for a spell like last time.”
Renee let out an irritated huff. “You should have turned on a light. You can’t blame poor little Kisses for your own mistake.”
Kate looked up as LuAnne and Loretta drove into the parking lot together and got out of the car. LuAnne called “Yoo-hoo!” and waved. She clicked open the trunk and lifted out a half-dozen Tupperware containers. Loretta pulled out a forty-cup coffeemaker and a large red can of coffee, then she slammed down the trunk with her elbow just as Abby drove in.
Abby always brought her brownies in a quilted carrier that fit over her Tupperware container. She had a collection of them that she’d made for every occasion and to fit every size container imaginable. This time was no different. She waved to Kate and Livvy as she trotted up the stairs toward them. As she drew closer, Kate blinked.
The fabric on the quilted container holder was made up of miniature soldiers, rifles, canons, and Union flags. If the flags weren’t enough of a clue, it was obvious from the dark-blue uniforms that Abby, with her wreath of smiles, sweet demeanor, and ready laugh, was a Northerner through and through. Kate smiled. It was a side of Abby she hadn’t known about, and judging from Renee’s and Caroline’s expressions, they hadn’t known about it either.
Renee and Caroline suddenly fell silent. Kate knew before she turned to look that they were staring at Abby’s quilted container.
“Well...” Renee sniffed, her tone steely.
“Dear, you surely know that Yankees aren’t welcome in this place,” Caroline said to Abby. Her voice was as sweet as sugar, but her eyes were as piercing as bayonets.
Abby nodded, smiling sweetly, and continued on up the steps, humming “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
THE CEREMONY WAS HELD in the library parking lot where rows of folding chairs had been set up. Just before the festivities began, Kate took her seat next to Paul in the second row. After Caroline’s passionate five-minute speech about her grandfather, several others spoke about their ancestors who had fought in the Civil War. Sprinkled throughout the audience were Civil War buffs in full uniform—probably giving their costumes a trial run before the coming reenactment. Many of them cheered—or jeered—at the mention of battles their great-great-grandfathers fought in, depending on which side won. Most vocal, Kate noticed, was Willy Bergen who was dressed as a Confederate foot soldier and looked every bit the part. He caught her gaze, grinned and gave her a smart salute.
Finally, Lawton Briddle, Copper Mill’s mayor, who was seated to the right of Caroline, stood up.
“Folks, I know you’ve all probably heard by now about the unfortunate robbery that took place last night. We’re all heartsick over this.” He shook his head slowly. “That such a thing could happen in our little town, especially to these good folks”—he gestured to Caroline and Renee—“whose forebear is the epitome of what this town is all about. We have a proud heritage here, and the fact that someone did something so shallow, so ignorant, so opportunistic is downright appalling.
“I commit to you this day that I am determined, with the help of Sheriff Roberts and his deputies, to leave no stone unturned until we find the perpetrators of this heinous crime. For it isn’t just a crime committed against dear Caroline and her daughter, Renee. No, my dear friends, it is a crime committed against us all.”
Applause and cheers rose from the audience.
The sheriff lifted his hand, looking, Kate thought, as if he relished his moment in the sun.
The mayor continued. “Our library has been honored with the opportunity to exhibit
some of the most valuable and interesting historical items from the Civil War Museum in Chattanooga, mostly because of the tireless work of our own Livvy Jenner.
“Dear citizens, if you hear anything at all about this crime, don’t hesitate to call any of us, day or night. We will follow every lead.”
On the dais, Renee reached into her gold-lamé handbag for a tissue and handed one to her mother. Caroline blinked rapidly as if to hold back her tears, the fabric blossoms on her hat trembling as she lifted the tissue to her eyes.
Kisses hopped down from Renee’s lap and, with one bounding leap, landed on Caroline’s. He walked around in a circle, as if trying to find a comfortable spot, then settled, his chin resting on Caroline’s white-gloved hand. She surrendered to his affection and patted his head with her other hand.
Livvy stepped to the podium, thanked everyone for coming, and invited the attendees to step into the library to see the exhibit and share some tea, coffee, and baked treats.
Everyone stood and clapped.
As Livvy dismissed the group, Kate noticed that Caroline’s gaze was fixed on someone in the row behind her and Paul.
She turned to look. An elderly gentleman who could have been Colonel Sanders’ twin was staring at Caroline. Beneath his snow-white mustache, the corners of his lips were turned up in a slight smile. He wore a white blazer and bow tie and carried a cane with an ornate brass speak-no-evil monkey at the top. He tilted his head in a nod toward Caroline, then turned to leave with his three female companions.
“Who’s that?” Kate whispered to Paul, indicating the group behind him. “I don’t recognize them.”
Paul followed her gaze. “They’re from Green Acres, the retirement home where Caroline used to live before she broke her hip and went to live with Renee. I’m not sure of the gentleman’s name, but the women are the Barker sisters, who’ve lived around here for years. They’re named after flowers. Never married, and from what I hear, they know this town inside out.”
